


Calming a Heart of Rage

by Oryanna7



Category: Anthem (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 12:16:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18850894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oryanna7/pseuds/Oryanna7
Summary: "She had to force herself to remember that those eyes did not belong to Matthias even if they were identical in appearance."  My first attempt at some light-hearted romance set in the world of my newest obsession, Anthem.





	Calming a Heart of Rage

The Freelancer was captivated for a moment as she looked into Erryl’s large brown eyes. They were kind and gentle. She had to force herself to remember that those eyes did not belong to Matthias even if they were identical in appearance.

“There were unexpected gravitational shifts?” Erryl said again, full of interest. The Freelancer nodded and continued to describe the events of her return to The Heart of Rage and her defeat of the power crazed Monitor.

Erryl would listen to the Freelancer speak then slowly gaze down to his papers where he would jot down carefully organized notes. He had several notebooks open and would keep various observations in each one. Amgoust the books, one was filled with interesting graphs and tables, another had references to glyphs and weird symbols, and one had a timeline of events. The one in the very middle was about how each event made the Freelancer feel.

The Freelancer paused for a moment to allow Erryl to flip through the pages of one of the journals. He stopped on a line graph where he made a small circle around one particular data point. He smiled, satisfied that the story he was hearing was lining up with all of his previous observations. He looked up at the Freelancer, eager to hear more.

She looked at him in return. His smile was sweet, honest. The smile line in his cheek was hypnotizing.

Suddenly a loud bang broke the silence of the moment. The Freelancer shot up from her chair, her hand reactively grabbed the pistol on her leg. She spun around to see Matti on a ladder that was propped up against a shelf. He was looking down at several brass measuring cups, an arm full of books, and a few other instruments that were still clattering to the ground.

“It is alright, Freelancer. It is only Matti,” the Freelancer looked over to Erryl, who was standing, leaning over the desk, his arm reaching out to her. She let out a short sigh, reholstering her gun. She didn’t even know Matti was in the room.

She nodded to Erryl, signifying that everything was alright. He slowly put down his arm. A lot was going on that was causing the Freelancer to be on edge, but now that the Monitor was dealt with, she needed to relax.

Erryl started closing all of the books on his desk, “You are quite late, Matti.”

“Yes, I, um,” Matti backed down off the ladder and picked up one of the fallen books. He looked down at it and read its title, his expression changing to interest. He looked back up at the Freelancer, surprised she was standing there even though he saw her just a second ago.

“Oh, yes,” Matti continued, remembering he was being spoken to, “I needed to return a book to Aruna before she left. Then, a very peculiar event happened with something at the bar, so I got very involved with that.” Matti climbed up the ladder again and put the book away. The Freelancer walked over to the remaining items and began handing them to Matti to return to the self.

“People were surprised to see me,” Matti continued, “they thought I was Sumner. Sumner was there, pretending to be me. Max got mad at Sumner, who got mad right back. Then people started laughing and wanted to see us fight. Sumner and Max are still arguing, I think.”

The Freelancer, Erryl, and Matti quickly put the Arcanist’s room back in order.

“It is quite late, Freelancer,” Erryl said softly, “How about I walk you to the door?” The Freelancer looked up at the skylight. It was now filling the room with bright white light from the largest moon. She nodded. Matti waved goodbye with a big toothy smile.

The Freelancer stopped at the stone door frame and looked out into the courtyard. Besides a couple whispering and giggling as they drunkenly staggered home from another Heart of Rage Redemption party, no one else was around.

“Thank you for your stories today, Freelancer,” Erryl stopped a few steps from the door and turned towards the Freelancer with a soft smile.

“Any time, Erryl,” the Freelancer replied, returning the smile. There was a beat before Erryl continued.

“I know this is difficult for you,” he raised his hand and motioned to himself and the Freelancer, “Knowing that I am not Matthias although I look identical to him.”

The Freelancer’s eyes grew wide with embarrassment, “I’m sorry, Erryl. I’ll do better.” She understood that he was politely telling her to stop expressing romantic interests towards him as he didn’t return the feelings. It was a situation he hinted to before. He expressed that her stares sometimes made him uncomfortable.

“I still have his memories,” Erryl looked away from the Freelancer, his soft voice getting even softer, “and I am sorry that he never got a chance to express to you how he felt. But you should know that he did return your feelings.”

He started to pick at his fingernail with his other hand. Having past feelings for someone and now feeling nothing at all for them without anything happening between the two must be just as confusing for him as it was for her.

Matthias essentially died the day he split into three people. It was still tough for her to accept. The triplets were starting to look different though, and that was helping. Erryl’s skin was lightening and his build was getting softer. He hardly ever left the Arcanist Headquarters and instead, happily read books and taught lessons indoors most days. Sumner was the opposite of Erryl, with his skin getting darker and his body getting more built. Sumner spent most of his time outside the fort in the elements bringing back pieces of Shaper tech to the other two. Matti was the middle ground. But he would usually have some sort of mysterious bruise or cut from, well, whatever it was Matti was up to most of the time. The Freelancer was unsure if Matti has irreparable damage from his close call with the Manifold or if he really is just so curious about everything that caught his eye that he needed to recklessly investigate it until his curiosity was satiated. 

The Freelancer reached out and grabbed Erryl’s hand to stop him from ripping a nail off. He grasped hers back.

The Freelancer took a half a step back and transitioned their hands into a handshake. “Anytime you want me to finish the story, let me know.”

“That would be delightful. Your information is invaluable to my research, Freelancer.” Erryl smiled wide and returned the handshake.

“And stop calling me Freelancer,” she asked, dropping her hands to sides and turned to walk away.

“Will do, Freelancer!” Erryl smiled wickedly.

She stopped in her tracks and turned to her arcanist friend, her mouth open with astonishment. “Erryl! Was that - was that a joke!?” she exclaimed. She didn’t think he was capable of humor!

“Humor is often used as a tool for emotional healing and to express positive feelings and kinship,” Erryl pointed out, smiling from ear to ear.

The Freelancer chuckled. And the two parted ways.

Fort Tarsis was calm and quiet. It was still fairly early into the night, but most of the citizens had already passed out. For the past two days, the Fort was in a constant state of partying after the Freelancers banded together to defeat the Dominion at the Heart of Rage a week ago. There were a few days before the striders from visiting cities arrived after hearing the news, but when they did, they brought enough booze to fill The Bowl. 

The Freelancer’s steps were heavy as they always were, she was used to the pneumatics of her suit doing most of the leg work. She walked down the twisting streets and back alleys. She was headed to the Freelancer Dorms but wasn’t in a big hurry to get there. Sleeping was tough the past few days. When she was in the darkness, she could hear a constant humming. Not the type of humming you’d normally hear that sounds closer to a mechanical engine working, but like a voice humming very close to her head. It was unnerving and never-ending.

As she rounded a corner, a person stepped out from a side street and the two nearly ran right into each other. The Freelancer turned and took a step back to avoid the collision. The walkway way was tight and she ended up with her back to the wall. She looked to the other traveler. It was Sumner. And he was completely heated.

The Freelancer spoke softly to avoid her voice echoing into the night, “you okay there, Sumner?” 

He wore a very indignant scowl. “I’m fine.” He exhaled loudly.

The Freelancer wasn’t sure how to console him. “Matti said you two got into some sort of fight with Max?” 

“People are just mad at me for doing something I didn’t do,” he thought for a second and crossed his arms, “I mean, yeah, Matthias did it. But that’s not me. I guess it sorta was me, but not really.”

The Freelancer reached out and put her hand on his arm to try to calm him. The bare skin on his arms was warm. She could smell the rich spices and sweet fruit juices from the bar on his clothes. “I can say something to Max-”

“No!” Sumner interrupted, shrugging his arms to shake off the Freelancer’s touch, “it was you that got me banned from there in the first place. You told Max to let both of those other assholes into the bar, but not me.”

The Freelancer wrinkled her nose. He was right, she did say that once.. “But that’s before I knew… you.”

“Well, that doesn’t really help me right now, does it?” Sumner stepped in and closed the space between them. The Freelancer raised her eyebrow at him. 

“If you stop being so confrontal, maybe people will be nicer to you. And maybe you could win your way back into the bar” she mocked his big bad guy routine.

Sumner slammed his left palm into the wall next to the Freelancer’s head, “I can’t. I’m doomed to the angry one, remember? It’s the part I got stuck with.” 

She stretched her neck to be even closer to his face. Matthias’ stubbornness happened to be one of the qualities she liked the best in him. “It’s not anger,” she replied, “it’s passion. There’s a big difference. You’re the only one that can’t see that.”

The fire behind Sumner’s eyes still raged as the Freelancer continued, “Am I not right? The part of Matthias that made the bomb to hold off the Scars when we first met. That was you. You wanted to stand up and fight. You’re the one to take charge and get it done.”

“You were the one that wanted the Elysian Manuscript and wouldn’t give up looking for it despite what everyone else was telling you.”

Sumner slowly looked over the javelin pilot as she spoke, leaning in just inches from her face. “When Erryl figured out how to use the Manifold to save Matti, you didn’t wait for a Freelancer to take the contract. You went out and found the solution for yourself. You saved Matti’s life.”

“And when-” but the Freelancer was cut off. Sumner closed in the mere inches between them with a deep and passionate kiss. And the Freelancer didn’t miss a beat. She reached behind his back with one arm and pulled his body in close. The two entangled themselves in the cramped alley, basked in full moonlight.

They didn’t think. All they did was act. Act on this one moment while they had it.

The Freelancer started directing the pair into a very serendipitous alcove a few steps away. They bumped into each other and stepped over each other’s feet as they shuffled into the seclusion, not letting their mouths part for an instant.

He tried to position himself away from pipes jutting out from the brick walls. She playfully bit his lip so they both could take a breath. The Freelancer took that moment to pop off the clips that held her gun holster and tucked her weapon rather sloppily into the hardy vines growing up the wall.

Sumner reached behind the Freelancer’s head and grasped a handful of her hair. He directed her face back to his with firm tug.

The Freelancer decided to push the boundaries and take a chance. She didn’t want this moment to slip away like it had in the past. She reached down to the end of Sumner’s quilted tunic and pulled it out of the way. She grazed her knuckles on his abdomen, then slid her fingers just onto the inside of his waistband and wiggled her fingers lightly.

She stopped and leaned back. The two made eye contact. He smiled devilishly. She returned with a deviant smile of her own. Sumner started grabbing at buckles and straps on the Freelancer’s clothes. Her outfit was far more complicated than his. 

She easily stretched the fabric of Sumner’s pants upwards to undo all the buttons at once in one quick jerk. He let out a little snort with a smile that the Freelancer interpreted as him being impressed.

The Freelancer moved to her own clothes. She popped four buckles and undid a zipper. Thank goodness for adaptive javelin suit gear so she didn’t have to have her bottom half completely naked.

There was nothing around to sit on, the alcove was very tight, and the two lovers were very close in height. So the Freelancer improvised. She stepped up with one foot onto a small pile of loose bricks on the ground and propped her body against the wall. Sumner stepped up to hold her leg steady and keep her pinned to the wall. She wrapped her arms around him however she could manage.

They were protected by prying eyes in the darkness of the alley, surrounded by vine covered walls and overlapping balconies overhead. Sumner buried his face into the Freelancer’s neck to prevent sound from escaping his mouth and disturb the peace of the night.

She pulled back the cloth of his turban to expose his head. She laid her cheek down onto his bare skin and closed her eyes. This was everything she wanted and everything she needed. Both started to breathe heavily as they found the perfect rhythm. 

The Freelancer attempted to bite her lip to keep herself silent in the throws of passion. Trying to be quiet only worked for a moment before her voice let slip a single word she would instantly regret, “Matthias.”

All motion stopped. 

The Freelancer’s eyes popped open, scared of what she had just mistakenly done. Sumner lifted his face from the crease of her neck and slowly looked up to meet the Freelancer’s eyes. His face was equal parts anger and betrayal.

The Freelancer, defeated and lost for for words, dropped her head back to hit the brick wall, “Fuck.”


End file.
